


"I'll take Sam as is."

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, BDSM, Drama, Established Relationship, Horror, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Season/Series 04, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-01
Updated: 2009-09-09
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8767003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam released hell.....this is the struggle for his mind.





	1. Slippery Slope

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> I wanted to write something of a "What if" headed into season 5. What if this is how it went.....  
> Dark. I wanted something dark, fierce. If you want happy, sorry, not happening here. The first chapter is disjointed thoughts....I tried to keep it simple. Words and thoughts. 
> 
> Please leave comments. I really love constructive criticism. It helps me grow and I look forward to knowing what people think.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *

  
_Crackle in the air, smell of leather  
Groan on his lips, knees buckle  
Head snaps up  
Eyes flash yellow, bleed into black  
Chasm-black, cold, dangerous  
Sweat soaked hands, holding, slipping  
Rocks tumble, losing his grasp  
Eyes snap, searching  
Hazel  
He exhales cautiously, He's back.  
Dancing, switching places, Sinner and Saint  
Both touched, Both demanded_  
  
**One- Hells poster boy of torture  
Heavens Obsession  
One- Hells Hope  
Heaven holds it's collective breath**  
  
Dean thinks only in fragments. It's all he can handle, too much to process  
anything but disjointed thoughts. He can't focus. He can't breath. He has  
only to flash from thought to random thought. He's going mad. He's back  
from Hell...for Sam, only for him. He knows he never really left. He never  
left or maybe it's only that the biggest part of him is hanging before him,  
Chained, panting, begging. Hell on Earth.   
  
Roles reverse so fast. He told Bobby to get out after Sam was chained.  
Bobby doesn't say a word, turns and walks out, a slouch to his   
shoulders that's never been there.  
  
_A trap, A trick  
Jaw slack, body loose._  
  
"Please....I.....love....."  
"Shut up!"  
  
_Dragging him back, tear him down.  
Pick up the messy, blood soaked pieces.  
Don't miss one, whatever it takes._  
  
**One- Heavens Obsession  
One- Hells hope  
Dirty, tired, worn**  
  
"I'll take it, Climb down, Sammy. Let it go, I'll carry it."  
  
_A sinful chuckle, deep in his bruised covered chest.  
Yellow, Black eyes glare  
You're losing him, fight harder.  
Physical demands, Demands his soul.   
His soul cries for the love, for the boy hanging.  
Bleeding, ragged hitch in his voice.  
Hazel meets Sea Green.  
  
Understanding, dragging, pleading.  
He won't give an inch. _   
  
"I.....love.....you......" (Pleas)  
"I said, SHUT UP!"  
  
_Crackle on the air.  
Snap, smell of copper and leather.  
His stomach lurches.  
Glances.  
Hazel. Still deep with pain of understanding, but hazel._  
  
Hells Savior but clings to Heavens hem.  
  
"Why? Why'd it....have to... (He swallows) be me?"  
  
Everything sements. He knows it's THEM hanging. It's him,   
Bleeding, cursing. Him.  
  
  
_Lashes, bright and crimson.  
Bleeding, pain and love.  
Locking Hell away, controlling the rolling pitch in his guts._  
  
**One- Heavens Obsession  
One- Hells pawn**  
  
_Where did it start? Which was which? Who will save your soul?  
The copper seeps.  
The groan turns to a scream.  
It's loud, long. Begging, Pleading.  
Pain seeps now.  
Copper. Pain. Blood and tears.  
He's going mad._  
  
He looks. Hazel, still beautiful hazel.  
He reaches up, gently drags him to the floor. He puts the cold glass to  
his lips and Sam drinks deeply. He's worn and bloody. It's necessary now.  
They have to control the darkness. They are in this together. No one can  
control the fury, the drop into the grasp of the darkness but him.   
Every tiny step they have taken on their journey has brought them here.  
Everything in him breaks as he breaks Sam. There are no options. It  
stopped being about anyone else long ago and became only Sam.  
The flashed of Sam's evil do not blind him to his beauty, his strength. He  
will spend his days saving him if he must. Rituals are the rule, not the   
exception now. They forge ahead together. Souls entwined so deep  
that it tears and bites, burns through them. Even though this is needed,  
it breaks him.  
  
_Soaked ice cold cotton against fiery skin.  
Holding him, soothing him,_ serving _him.  
Breathing hitched, tears welling._  
  
"I'm....sorry.....that....I....am.....weak."  
"I know. Shhhhhh."  
  
_A dance, deadly but controlled.  
Healing hands, Holding him, soothing.  
Savior. Healer. Executor.  
Broken skin, ragged breath.  
Tears flow like rivers, dropping on his face below.  
Wash the pain, Wash the truth.  
Tell the truth. Truth will set you free.  
It doesn't.  
Trapped. Broken. War weary._  
  
**One- Heavens Warrior.  
One- Hells Slave.**  
  
"Don't....give....up on.....me."  
"Never. I wouldn't know how."  
  
_Truth washes. Hazel eyes.  
Hands carass his check, so hollow.  
One hand over his heart.  
Pounding, studders.  
Life, his life, lays against him now. Breathing slows.  
Tears trickle._  
  
"I.....love......you.....Dean."  
"I know."  
  
Not much more. He has nothing left.  
He is Spent. Worn. Torn.  
  
He leads him up the stairs and runs a bath. They are alone. Bobby has left  
and knows instinctively he must not return until summoned. They are hunted,   
a bounty on their heads. He strips Sam of the tattered rags he wears. He   
guides him into the water. His brain gives out on him again. He fights for  
the control of his functions. He battles his mind to hold onto his sanity.   
Darkness crowds his vision again. Segmented thoughts.  
  
_Burning, it must burn.  
He weeps openly, loudly.  
Red rimmed ice green irises.  
Muscles weak, groaning, protesting.  
Dunk him under. Rebirth.  
Ritual stays the same.  
Death. Life. Love. Sacrifice. All the same now.  
Weakness and madness._  
  
"Am....I....going.....to........."  
  
_Voice breaks, tears flow.  
One word, always the same.  
Prayer fails. Don't say it...  
Sam, don't....say it._  
  
"Die."  
  
There between them.  
  
**One- Heaven's prize  
One- Hell's scorn**  
  
_Chasm. Black, evil, foreboding.  
One misstep, over the edge. Game over.  
He finds his voice. Steadies it._  
  
"No."  
  
He guides him out of the water, dries him. Sam shivers. He's not at  
all sure if pain or exhustion caused it. It doesn't matter either way.  
He's good and broken now. The tears hardly ever stop for either of  
them. The blackness is never far from his mind. His blackness, Sam's.  
He must break Sam. It's the only way to hold it back. The demon is   
always leering, watching. This is the only way. He breaks him with   
leather to the skin, lashing it into submission. He knows that this is no  
life to live but they won't stop trying. Sam will come back to him. It's the  
only way. The beatings are severe, bloody, a battle.   
Good -vs- Evil, the ultimate showdown.  
Brother -vs- Brother, side by side in battle.  
He lays Sam down and tucks the cornflower colored blanket tight under  
his chin. Shivering against his will, they both are. Broken, no other word  
for it. Sam reaches for him. He needs, he wants. He crawls in and tucks  
himself neatly against Sam's bloody back. He is sure this will break his mind  
again.  
  
**One- curses Heaven.  
One- cursed by Hell.**  
  
"I'll take Sam as is."  
  
_A curse. A prayer. A mantra.  
Strums his thumb across the hollow bones on Sam's face.  
Tear slick.  
Pain stained.  
Never out of reach, screaming, clawing.  
He holds him, his Savior.  
He feels the familiar lerch in his guts.  
_ He isn't strong enough. _  
Breaks him but pieces go missing.  
Fight for his soul. War. Tears.  
Warriors shouldn't weep.  
But _ THEY _do. They weep together.  
Openly, pained, scarred.  
Beating hell back._  
  
He's scared and clings to Dean. Even the hazel looks black now. He sees the fear hiding there, layers of fear. He's never really completely here unless he's freshly broken, veil lifted. He drags Sam back to him as often as required. He's not strong enough to end it but stubborn enough to never stop trying. The pain stops the hallucinations, stops the madness. For awhile they just lay, his arms surrounding Sam, enveloping him. He rests his head in the crook of Sam's neck. There is a peace there that almost soothes away his own pain. They have been tested, they failed. Sam wears their collective shame on his back, crisscrossed scars. They form shackles for the evil, the blackness that rages in his eyes.  
  
"Dean?" He says whisper silent. "Don't leave."  
"I told you, I wouldn't know how. Sleep now."  
  
Sam's eyes flutter. Dean answers with a long steady blink.  
  
**One- turned against Heavens peace.  
One- turned from Hells wrath.**  
  
The images are the same, always the damned same.  
  
_His father in a hospital bed...._  
"Save Sam. Nothing else matters. If you can't save him, you have to kill him."  
  
_Sam pleading....._  
"NO, You have to WATCH OUT for me. If I ever turn into something I'm not,  
you have to kill me. Promise me!"  
  
_Azazel quipping...._  
"How certain are you that what you brought back was 100%, pure, Sam?"  
  
_Sweat drips, throat dries.  
Sputtering, cursing.  
The pain crushes in on him.  
Safe. Sound. Loved.  
Should have seen, steps, marching towards damnation.  
Stop. Stop. Please. Tears.  
Breath, gasping, clinging.  
_   
He stares down on his brother. He's never a stranger but he's never the same.  
He's gone through so many metamorphisis. Somehow Sam has held that Sam  
from so long ago. He has had the strength to hold to that boy, full of promise,  
full of hope. The hope he thought he had for the world was really always the  
hope and love he had for Dean. He'd give up breath for Dean. Dean crawled  
from Hell for him. Deals made only cemented their future and folly. Sam sighs  
peacefully in his slumber. If he's lucky, he'll have his Sammy for a few days   
before the devil takes hold and he'll need to beat it back down again. There  
are no pills, no injections. Hell, there are no spells or binding that will stop the  
blackness that creeps.  
  
"I'll take Sam as is."  
  
_Awake, eyes pleading.  
Warm breath on his neck.  
Turning, gazing.  
Heart. Soul. Body. Mind.  
Destiny, longing, need.  
It's all tangled, it's on. It's the whole.  
It's the only way now, the answer. The salvation.  
Demon blood, angels wings.  
Prayer. Death. Destruction.  
Kiss, tender, pleading.  
Mint, copper, leather.  
They stain the air through his nose, to his head and heart.  
_   
_Arms wrapping, kisses beg to erase.  
Sweet aftermath of punishment, their folly.  
Only surrender, only tastes.  
Long, low, languid.  
Fluid, smooth, need._  
  
They hold each other, they have the other as a talisman against what waits. It  
leers and lies in wait. A lion on the savannah waiting to pounce. Their kisses  
are sweet and filling. They need for nothing else, no more than this. There is  
no hint of savagery left behind. He kisses Sam deep and long, holding him  
tight to him. His head is begging for one more minute of this peace. The world  
melts away with the pain and punishment but easier still with the quiet of their  
kiss. There is no rush, there is no hint of lust, only souls entwined. They lose  
themselves in it.  
  
_A dam breaks again, ripping.  
Tears leak, dripping._  
  
Sam reaches gently to wipe his Saviors tears. He feels the pain, there is nothing  
the other does not feel now.   
Parallels.  
Ying and Yang.  
Mirrors.  
Every step of the long journey was leading to this moment. Born to fail but born to rise like the Phoenix, ashes splayed behind them. Stronger once broken and worn. They were made for this....their destinies locked together before time began.  
  
"Vos es meus spiritus.  
  Vos es meus vita.  
  Ego mos nunquam licentia vestri pars."   *  
  
He breathes quietly as Sam speaks, tone low but full of promise and resolve.  
Then, like a well bubbling, the words rise in his throat. He's not sure where they   
were born but they are fighting for life against his lips now.  
  
"Capiam Sam ut est."  **  
  
_Breaking embrace. Nod of understanding.  
Cleaning, bandage, kisses like butterfly wings.  
Norishment, necessity, nothing more.  
Looking for a sign. Waiting for the moment._  
  
His head is clearing, he's thinking properly for the first time in weeks. He looks over and breathes a sigh that Sam is still and looks at peace. He looks small, frail and fragile but Sam is there nonetheless. The moments are few but he revels in them when they come.  
  
"Sammy? We'll figure it out. You have to keep fighting."  
  
He pleads like his life depends on it and he knows in his heart it does. He's still not sure how far the rabbit hole goes, hell, he is almost certain that the whole world might depend on it. They are depending on his baby brother to fight this demon inside him.  
  
**One- Heavens embrace.  
One- Heaven fears.  
**   
"Just don't leave, it gets so damn dark, Dean. I lose everything everytime. When you are there, I can still dream...that this will end well."  
  
They both know the chances of that are slim. The air changes, there's electricity on his tongue now. He should not fear but he holds stock still. Then he is rushing for Sam, stands firm in front of him. He braces for the worst.  
  
One- Heaven covets.  
One- Heaven hunts.  
  
It echoes in his brain...bouncing.  
  
"You'll be at peace....even with Sam."  
  
Screaming now. It's Sam....feral, raw, animal.  
  
The door is being pushed in. He brings the wind, swirling and pressing like fingertips searching for something to devour. The air, Oh it used to be sweet with love, now is overwhelmed by the electric charge. Acid, Acrid.   
Dean locks eyes with the wind. He fills with fear. Unadulterated, unabashed fear.   
Echoeing...

"You'll be at peace....even with Sam."   
  
But he rejected that....turned, walked away. Always would no matter what the cost.  
  
"I'll take Sam as is....."  
  
He looks at Sam, "Forever."  
The wind speaks.  
  
"Dean, it is time."  
  
Castiel shows no emotion and no fear.  
  
  
-To be continued  
  
* Latin translations  
(Sam)  
"You are my breath.  
You are my life.  
I will never leave your side."  
  
(Dean)  
"I'll take Sam as is."


	2. Arranged

"Finish this," He says with no hint of a question in his voice.

"Damn Cas, you don't call. You don't write." He smiles internally because the cogs are falling into place and his head is clearing. He sees a glimpse of the old Dean somehow in all this. Sam is still hissing, snapping in the chair. The Devils trap holds but Dean sadly concurs that it is Sam's body that is the ultimate trap.

"It is time," Cas repeats.

Dean steels himself, trying to stand steady on wobbling legs. He shoots a look straight into Castiels eyes. "Let me see if can make this perfectly crystal, ok...."Castiel." That served to get Cas's attention, no nickname, no flavor of buddies on the air. "I'm not "offing" my brother, not for you or them or anyone, Ever. Nothing to talk about."

He reached behind him and placed a steady hand on Sam's chest, square over his brothers pounding heart. A brief flash of what Dean thought looked a lot like sadness and regret in Cas's face. There would be no compromise, there would be no more time. Rubber, meet road. His mind was trying to compensate....holding steady for Sam's sake. Quips, jokes, snarky comments-they all served to buy a little more time and Dean was damn glad that he was clear enough to think now.

"It still isn't clear to yet, is it Dean? You still haven't put the pieces together. All of Heaven speaks your name, even still, with such reverence but you don't deserve it. You have yet to figure the part you WILL play or the part you have already played," Castiel stated simply.

A snap, a hiss, a groan. Sam clawed at his hand, something he wanted to say. He watched his brother try and control the shake in his body, supress the dark.  
"Anna....he means Anna," Sam grunted.

What? What would Anna have to do with all this? His mind was grasping, still not totally clear. He searched his memories, shuffling through the endless files and snippets. Nothing. The picture was so huge, this whole thing was just a mind fuck. Why were he and Sam even here? Why weren't they living somewhere in a quiet, un-supernatural life. Why them?  
  
"You think Sam was the only one that tempted, Dean? You think we didn't have plans all our own? You really need to start paying attention. It's the end, this is it. You and Sam honestly thought that the RIGHT side, the side that WILL win, wouldn't put a man in our corner? We have known you Dean Winchester since before you were born, before you were a concept. You are chosen, you belong to us."

"I don't belong to you, Castiel. I don't belong to Heaven, Hell or anywhere in between."  
  
"So much to learn," Cas shakes his head, slightly and sadly. "Ruby, Anna...they both played a part. It was easy, you two were so easy to rip, tear....pull asunder. But that was the point though, wasn't it? Anna was brought to you to drive a wedge further between you and Sam and you bought it. You laid with her and never thought of Sam. He laid with Ruby and let me assure you, never thought of you. You still, even now, don't comprehend that. Mirror images. Angel and Demon. Brothers."  
  
"What's done is done," He replied calmly, "The End, the Devil all of it....it's done. The world can rot, you can rot....I'm not leaving Sam. I'll get him back and he'll be whole. Don't try to stop me."  
His voice had a gruff to it, a sting that he wished would convey that he was standing his ground but he knew that it might be too late. It was all too much to think about. He shivered against his own will.  
  
"Sam was called, as were you. You were always to be pitted against the other. This fierce sense of family, of loyalty to a brother, father, mother....it was all manufactured to benefit us, them. Before the dawn of time this was foretold, Dean. Many have come before you but none will come after if we don't stop this. Stop Sam. He will fall over the edge into the darkness and when he does, God help us all. Lucifer is loosed but Sam still holds the key, the power. Don't you understand?"  
  
He hated how Castiel talked about Sam like he wasn't in the room, like he wasn't alive. He could feel Sam slowing his heartbeat, fighting for control. He gave him hope, a reason to stand and fight for his brother, his love. After all they had been through, He knew that the key was Sam and damnit, he'd save him. He had figured as much that Lucifer needed Sam for something....but the pieces clicked into place with a hollow thud. Lucifer needed Sam to walk free, needed Sam to finish the end. If that was true, wasn't it possible that Dean was needed as well.  
  
"I have it under control. I'm holding it back."  
  
"With lashes? With blood and pain? No, no he must cease to exist. It's the only way."  
  
"It's holding it back. It's working," he cursed himself for the pleading edge to his voice. "Sam and I will make this work. It HAS to work.You know that without Sam, I can't go on....won't go on. No good for your side. Notice I said, your side because I'm not doing this. I'm not going to be the Savior, Castiel. Sam is the only thing on my radar. Like I said, the world can rot."  
  
He smoothed Sam's damp hair back from his eyes. He looked into his eyes, into his soul. Hazel. Breath of relief.  
  
Sam opened his mouth, closed it. Eyes boring into Dean's, pleading. They've been here before, Sam is begging for the peace only Dean can give.  
Sam's voice is slow and steady, fingers entwined in Dean's against his chest.

Sam's voice was hypnotic, low, trance-like.

"One brother broke the first, one brother broke the last. Had to be, was foretold. We were supposed to kill each other, still are. They weren't counting on what we are..." His voice trailed off.

"What do you mean Sam, "What we are"

"Soulmates"

The word was an absolute, a prayer, a warm blanket on your shoulders on a crisp fall night. The Truth.

Sam continued, "Instruments. Weapons. Collateral damage, Dean." He said his name with such reverance, love. "The plan doesn't work with us alive. I brought darkness, you ushered light, but it's not free until we are removed. With our deaths, it gives the other side life."

Castiel interrupted their quiet conversation. "There are things we couldn't know, were not allowed to know. Unknows keep the balance. We suspected the bond, encouraged it, both sides did from the beginning. It's no coincedence that you come from a family of hunters, a family of trained assassines. They all played their roles. You were reared as soliders, not as boys. You took to your roles so well. Dean with his angelic blood, Sam demon..."

"What?"

Dean stood stock still...world tilting again. Fragmenting.

Castiel confirmed, "You must have known in as much as Azazal visited Sam, we came to you. Everything was mirror images, Dean. Set into motion before time began. Blood given and blood to be shed."

"Some cosmic joke. We're pawns in your stupid chess match then? What if we dont play along, huh Cas?" He was screaming now. Every nerve on fire.

_Chasm- black, a void_

_Holding Sams slippery wet hand_

_Slipping slipping_

He demanded of Sam with his eyes, searching for answers. He was supposed to be his Savior but he felt lost, not able to hold himself up.

Roles reverse. Sinner/Saint

Sam intuitively knew his thoughts, his need for answers.

"Remember before the pit? That last day? When the end came for you? You could see the other side. The veil was lifted. I live that way now Dean. I know everything, how this started. It was a game by the way, a pissing match. I know what it took for all the pieces to fall in place, where we fit into it. The victory lies in our blood. If I die, Heaven takes the crown-right Castiel?"

His mind zipped through the information as quickly as he could. Before he could fully process anything, Castiel was upon him. Finger to forehead. His head snapped backwards. It was like putting on glasses for the first time after a life time of not knowing just how much your feeble sight failed you. His head was free of clutter, clear, new.

"I need you whole and fully able to concentrate," Castiel murmured. "This is your one and only chance, Dean. Choose wisely."

With Castiels finger still on his forehead, in a fraction of a second he knew everything he ever needed to know. It was all there, life and future flashed behind his eyelids.

"I've lifted the veil, you know everything we know, that Sam knows, that THEY know. The veil will drop but this knowledge is yours. Do with it what you will. You have 48 hours, Dean."

He pressed a small blue velvet bag into Deans palm. Castiels eyes met his.

"Give this to Sam, it is the only way I can give him back to you. It's temporary but the effects should lsat until I've returned."

The electric feeling in the air ceased, they were alone now. He gave Sam a once over and feeling sure his brother was fine, Dean stared at the little bag. The chair creaked behind him and he turned.

"I think we should," Sam simply stated.

"Use this? (he held up the small bag) Yeah, not on my worst day am I trusting him, Sam. He wants you dead."

"Dean. Just do it. Your trust is in me, not in him. It will help....it's angel blood. I'll be able to hold this off and be me for awhile. I am so damn tired, Dean. My mind needs a rest."

"Why the hell would they HELP us Sam? Doesnt make sense. They want you DEAD."

Sam chuckled, low and deep. "One less demon to deal with for awhile for one. Besides, they think they know what I'll choose, what you'll choose. Everything they've "arranged" for our lives, our destinies. They didn't miss a beat, not a single detail was overlooked. Mom, Jess, Dad-All of it. The only thing they can't control is our choice. We have free will, Dean. They hate that, hate us for it."

"So Cas thinks you're going to die then? Thats it. Thinks I'm going to kill you."

"Yes." A solemn nod, a glance.

Something in that look assure Dean that this move, this help from Castiel was the only glimmer of hope they might have. Or it could backfire. He wasn't sure of anything right now but he trusted Sam. Trusted that he would know.

He stood behind Sam, took a huge breath. He held Sam by his neck, tilted his head up towards him, bent down. Lips touched Sam's forehead. He opened the bag and poured it all down Sams awaiting throat.....and for the first time in months, he prayed.

 


	3. Peace

  
Author's notes:

(From Sam's POV)

***

 

* * *

His veins burned, his eyes felt like white hot pokers were being shoved into them. He know somewhere subconsciously that there must be one hellva internal struggle ensuing in him but all that was blotted by the physical right now. For what seemed like an eternity he burned and his body raged. Dean had him in a steady hold under his chin and was cursing under his breath. Slowly he leveled out, started to feel "Sam" filtering back in.  
  
"I'm good. Thanks." He touched Dean's hand softly. It felt good to be Sam again...he was always here just in varying degrees that felt like having a wicked case of "Sybil" He wrapped his hand around Dean's wrist and led him around to face him. He was relieved he didn't have to worry about hurting him or snapping right now. Dean looked down at him, the weight of the world showing in his tense shoulders. He stood slowly, still holding tight to Dean's wrist. He bent slightly, pressing his lips softly, with caution to Dean's. Wanting to show him that he was truly all Sam, he stepped carefully from the Devils trap on the floor. He exhaled and then flashed a huge "Sam" grin.  
  
"It worked. I wasn't sure it would."  
  
"Gee Sam, that's awesome to know that this coulda been a disaster." Dean playfully punched his arm. Dean just knew intuitively that Sam was really Sam now. This was all like riding a bicycle, he thought ruefully, a really fucked up bicycle. The banter, the ribbing...they started to feel more and more like the old Sam and Dean. Months of pain, screams and general hell was washed away. It was the immeasurable devotion that always served to pull them through.  
  
"So what now, Sam? OOOOO, I know! Disneyworld!"  
  
"Food. God, I need food." Sam replied.  
  
Dean bit his bottom lip slightly. " Awwww, come on Sammy. I KNOW they have food at Disneyworld, GOOD food." Dean winked at him and pushed past, heading for the kitchen.   
"Come on Sasquatch, maybe I can find something in this place to feed your ginormous ass."  
  
God they were fucked up, he mused to himself. What other two people on the planet could ever have gone through all this and still....easy, it was easy to fall into the banter that was just so "Sam and Dean". God, they were fucked up. He chuckled.  
  
"S'so funny Sammy?" Dean drawled.  
  
"The truth?" He paused, "Dean....we...are...fucked up." Mock shock covered both their faces at the same time. Sam exploded in laughter. "Seriously. Fucked. Up. Like rubber room fucked up. I think I kinda like it." He grinned.  
  
"Damn straight! What goods being normal anyhow?" Dean answered.  
  
They bustled around Bobby's kitchen like an old married couple. Sam grabbed the stuff from the fridge while Dean grabbed pots and pans, whistling as they moved in unison. They made a huge breakfast and finished it with not a morsel left. He leaned back in the chair, stretching, content.  
  
"Tired?" Dean quizzed.  
  
"Hell yes...of course, end of the world...Satan on the prowl...yeah."  
  
"Riiiiight. Musta slipped my mind. So you're thinking what? Party?"  
  
Dean winked at him and stood to gather the dishes.  
Sam chuckled once....thinking....  
  
"Shit! Dean, that's it. FUCK!"  
  
"Ummmm what's "it"? You MUST be shot, Sam."  
  
"No, no. Listen. Party. Well, kind of...get together, gathering. Call everyone. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Rufus, Chuck..as many people as we can muster. Pick some place off the beaten path but somewhere everyone would know we would go to. I want to be watched, to force them all into the same place. I don't want them to know what we're going to do. Keep them all on their toes. They'll think we're planning, plotting. It'll buy us time."  
  
"You know.." Dean thought out loud, "It's scary sometimes how awesome we are. Ha!" Dean conceded.  
  
"Right?" He chuckled to himself. "So really, thing is, We know this. Lucifer's body is his, that much is true but he needs to somehow to make it a permanent situation. He's got this weird connection to me, he can tap into the demon blood I think. He can...." he searched for the right words.  
  
"Monitor you." Dean finished.  
  
"Yeah, I guess that's it. It's not always a solid connection and hell, I'm pretty sure it's severed right now with that mojo Cas gave us but I'm not sure. 'Course that means I can't see him coming either."  
  
Ok, well I'll get our stuff together and you shower. We'll meet down here to leave. So....ok then....." Deans eyes slowly moved over Sams body. If Sam could read him, and he damn well knew he could, there was a look of worry there on Deans face. He didn't think Sam was fit to leave, to be on the road now.  
  
"Don't worry about me, I'm fine." He could tell that Dean wasn't buying it so he reached down to pull the hem of his shirt up, hitching it over his head. He made sure he caught Dean's eyes. Emerald green meeting warm hazel. Dean looked slightly terrified, slightly like he might pass out under the weight of seeing the abuse he had inflicted on Sam. Sam turned slowly, grin seeping across his face. He heard Dean gasp.  
  
"What in the fuck? Sammy?"  
  
Sam laughed his old Sam laugh for Dean. "Musta been that garbage you poured down my throat, healed me. Good as new, come here and check it out. I promise, I'm fine"  
  
Truth was that Sam didn't mention it all before because he knew he wanted Dean to well....see this at just the right moment. He wanted Dean to have to touch him to feel he was really ok and his little plan was a success. Dean practically ran across the room reaching Sam and running his hands up and down his back. He pulled skin as if it was some sort of trick, maybe fake skin. Sam chuckled again.  
  
"I told you, fine. Amazing, huh? So, I guess I'm just gonna shower now that I passed inspection." He started to turn to walk towards the stairs. "Oh and Dean? Thanks. I know there were times that...you could have just joined me in that fucking darkness and it would have been easier for you. Thanks for not giving up on me, huh?" Tears started to well and he had to look away. Damnit he didn't want to cry again. He felt Deans hand on his shoulder, gripping him, turning him slowly.  
  
"I had to Sammy. I couldn't lose you, wouldn't lose you, not again. I hated hurting you but there but there was no other way around it...let me, I need to..."  
  
He cut off Deans sentence by pressing his lips softly to Dean's. He needed to share breath with his Savior, his love, his soulmate. He gently ran his tongue against Deans soft full bottom lip. urging him with his tongue. Dean's lips parted, slowly...deliberately. He broke ever so slightly from Dean, took a breath.  
  
"You wouldn't let me..." His voice hitched in his throat. "Say that I love you."  
  
Dean looked down, obviously in pain, obviously ashamed. "I couldn't Sammy. If I would have heard that, I could't have done it. I would have pulled you down and it would have been the end of it all."  
  
"48 hours," Sam mused, "I think I'm going to tell you as many times as I can the next 48 hours....I love you, Dean. Always have, always will."  
  
He entwined his fingers through Deans and led him up the stairs to the guest bedroom. He pulled his brother through the door, pulling Deans hand to his face, kissing from his fingertips to his wrist. He sat on the bed, pulling Dean to him. Dean's fingers in his hair, fingers running down his face, lips and breath warm on his neck. There would be no rush in this, if the end came, they didn't care. He wanted to hear Dean say "You're mine, Sammy." That's all he really needed, fuck all the rest. He exhaled, tasting Dean on his lips....sweet and heady.  
  
"Sammy, I want you to know I wouldn't know how not to love you. When you left for Stanford, I was lost. When you died, I couldn't let go...."  
  
(Sam standing there, alive and breathing. Dean ran to him, hugged him. That night they talked about what it all meant. Dean had confessed what Sam knew all along. Right or wong, there was a pull there, a devastating need to call it what it was. Somewhere in time, they fell in love-needed to belong to the other.)  
  
"You were mine, you always will be Sammy. It defies everything we know but you were made to belong to only me."  
  
They spent several hours curled in the bed, kissing, connecting. It was like batteries that needed to recharge. They touched each other with reverence, with peaceful love and respect, healing one another. Sam finally stroked Dean's cheek with a sad look on his face.  
  
"Guess we should go?" He phrased it as a question because he honestly hoped the answer would be a resounding "Hell no" from Dean but he knew they had to go.  
  
"Let someone else be the heroes," Dean chuckled. "Let it all burn, Sammy."  
  
15 minutes later, Sam was showered and sitting shotgun in the Impala. Dean had called most everyone on his contact list. Dean had decided that the burned out Roadhouse would be the meeting spot. All the players were in route now. They hit the road with mixed feelings. So much to do, so much to focus on when all they really wanted to do was drink a few beers, watch a crappy Western and be near each other. He felt himself getting heavy lidded, he didn't want to sleep-last thing he felt he could afford right now. He snapped his eyes open, forcing sleep off for a second.  
  
"Just sleep, Sammy. I got it. Sleep."

***

"Sam, you stubborn ass. Open yer eyes. We ain't got all day."

Sam's eyes snapped open widely then narrowed when accosted by the harsh sunlight. There was a forest, green and lush all around him. A perfect circle of fluffy green grass, surrounded by the dark of the forest. Strange. Sam didn't remember leaving the Impala, really fucking strange. Even more disturbing was the fact that the voice he heard was that of  Mr. "Business in the front, Party in the back" himself. Ash? Really? What the hell was going on here?

"Ash? Where the hell....how....dude, you're dead."

"No shit Sherlock, so this must be important, right? Like I said 'fore, ain't got all day."

"O...umm....k? So I'm dreaming, ok. Dreaming."

"More like a vision but eh? Listen Sam the Man, I know you and Dean are headed to the Roadhouse. That's good, you're headed to the right place. The piece'll fit once you get there, I think. 'Course you need to wake up now and tell Dean to turn around...you need to go to the Devils Gate, Sam. Go now. No ones watching. It's safe."

"Devils Gate? Ash?"

"Look here Sam. Samuel Colt didn't know why....didn't understand but he made two bullets separate from the rest that night he made the Colt. You need those, Sam. Don't know why, but you do. It's gotta be the key to fixin' this mess and a right fucked up mess it is. Go now...Wake Up!"

Sam gasped, sitting up straight, instantly awake. "Turn around Dean- Devils Gate- Dean turn around!"

Good thing about the two of them is that they knew each other backwards and forwards, no mistaking the trust they had in one another. Dean whipped the Impala around, not saying a word and raced towards their new destination. They'd driven in silence for about 5 minutes when Sam finally found his voice again.

"So...uh, I was talking to Ash...holy mother....what a mind fuck, Dean. So he tells me to go to the Devils Gate. God, I need a fucking beer."

"Whoa. Sammy, slow down, man. Ash? Like "blown up in the Roadhouse, dead as a doornail" Ash? More importantly, did they make him get a haircut in the afterworld?" Dean grinned.

"Nope." Sam popped the P softly with his lips. "Same 'ole Ash. Said Samuel Colt made 2 bullets...and that we need them? Something about it being the key. Weird, but who am I to argue with "Dr. Badass"? Wonder what we need 'em for?

"Trust me Sam, I promise there's some seriously messed up reason we need them. God, don't even THINK about it too long." Dean joked.

They made the trek in record time. As they go out of the car, it hit Sam that they had no idea where to even begin to look. He guessed the logical place would be somewhere on the massive door as it had been crafted by Mr. Colts own hands.

"Ok, so I'm thinking door....somewhere hidden maybe? Secret compartment? Needle, meet haystack." It nagged at him though that he KNEW they were somewhere on that door. How? They moved quickly, eyes roaming for any signs of a set up, anything amiss. The low afternoon sun hit the large iron door...just....right. "There! Right there Dean." He reached up and there they were glinting in the huge solid structure. "Bizarre. This whole thing is fucking nuts."

"That's it then? We can go? Think we should, right?" Dean answered. "Got what we needed, get the fuck out. Keep moving. 'Sides I'm betting Bobby knows what the deal is with those things. Shit. sam, we dont even have the Colt. This could all be for nothing."


	4. Revelation

  
Author's notes:

Dean's POV

This chapter is something that I want to see SPN touch on somehow, someway. I feel that it would close alot of chapters and lingering questions. This is how I invision it.

***

 

 

* * *

The Colt.  
  
The words hung heavy in the air. They could never catch a break, could they? Bela....God. Last time they heard, the Colt was halfway around the world, sold to the highest bidder. There'd never be enough time to find it now. For a split second he was glad those Hell Hounds....no, he wouldn't wish that on anyone, even her.  
  
"Dean, maybe we can find it?"  
  
He never answered Sam because before he could even open his mouth, something caught his eye. A huge hawk was circling directly overhead. It dipped towards he and Sam with purpose, circling closer and closer to their heads with each pass. He watched as it flowed, first slightly to the right then righted and dipped slightly to the left. He could feel the birds keen eye on them, watching. Odd thing was that he felt no fear even with the way the thing was looking at them with an almost human like quality to it's eyes. He couldn't quite put his finger on the sensation but it almost felt like...comfort. He mused to himself that comfort was a strange feeling when the only comfort he knew now was Sam. Still, there was something familiar about the creature circling over them.  
  
"Gotta get goin'. Hungry."  
  
Where had that thought come from? Had he said that out loud? He looked to Sam with wide eyes. Nothing should surprise him at this point but having this thoughts hijacked and new thoughts intruding never got to be something he enjoyed. He contemplated a split second and decided to run with the errant thought.  
  
"Let's go, Sammy."  
  
Sam noticed the bird then.  
  
"Dean? What's..."  
  
"Sam. Let's go. Come on."  
  
Back in the car, he had all intentions of explaining but decided he didn't really know what there was to explain exactly. He flipped the radio on instead. Funny. Apocalypse outside and they were still playing AC/DC over the air waves. Things seems so normal. Hunger again. Where did that keep coming from?  
  
"Hey Dean? Next diner, pull in. I know we ate a huge breakfast but all the sudden, I'm starving." Sam stated.  
  
Oh shit.  
  
"Ummm sure. Why not? Could use a break anyhow, Sam."  
  
"So what was that? Hawk? Weird. You see it's eyes? You know...I think Dad told us something about hawks when we were little. Something about bringing messages from the other side from loved ones. You remember?"  
  
He had remembered standing there beside the door Samuel Colt built although he wasn't sure how it all fit together. All he could think now was how frickin' hungry he was.  
  
"Yeah Sam." he muttered, not meaning for it to sound condescending but damn if it did. He just had to figure this out...after they ate.  
  
Joe's Diner suddenly appeared on Dean's left and he pulled the Impala in without a second thought. The little place was horribly gawdy and completely out of place in the middle of the gentle country behind it. It was covered in shiny aluminum siding, every window it seemed had a tacky flashing neon sign. "Open" and "Come again" along with various beer ads. There was a bell over the door that rang preternaturally loud in his ear. The place was completely empty except a waitress that had her back to them and they could hear the bustle of someone working in the kitchen. They exchanged a weary glance as they surveyed the empty establishment. The waitress cleared her throat but never turned to look at them.   
  
"Hey boys. Have a seat, be right with ya."  
  
That voice. His eyes shot to Sam's only to find Sam standing gaping at him. So familiar, easy, home. Couldn't be. It really could NOT be. He quickly grabbed Sams wrist, pulling him over to the last table in the corner. Sam was staring at him wide eyed like he had just been on the receiving end of a blow to the gut. He looked like he wanted to say something but had no breath to put behind the words.  
  
The waitress finally turned towards them....it seriously could NOT be.  
  
"Mom!" Sam was up and across the room before Dean could even process this turn of events.  
  
"Sam, Oh sweetie." Mom pulled Sam into a warm embrace. Dean stood wearily and walked slowly towards them. Seriously couldn't be.  
  
"Hey Dean."  
  
Now Dean knew for sure this was a trap, a set up. In one swift but deadly sure move, he reached inside his jacket and grabbed the blade by it's smooth bone handle. He turned on his heels, arm extending, blade slicing through the air....  
  
Then his eyes met John Winchesters dead on.  
  
"Son, gonna stab your old man? What, no "Gee howya been pop?"  
  
John flashed that million watt grin, eyes sparkling. The knife dropped from Deans grasp. John enveloped him, smothering him with all his "Dad-ness" Deans eyes immediately filled with tears. Tears of joy, regret, shame, love. He didn't know how it was possible, didn't care. His Dad was here, he was sure of it. His Mom! He had completely forgotten for a second. He pulled away from his father, desperately scanning the room. His mother was still clinging to Sam. John clapped his eldest son on the shoulder, "Go on."  
  
Dean ran up behind Sam, wrapping his arms tightly around him, all the way around to his mom. His tears flowed freely yet again. He could hear the hiccup in Sam's breathing too.  
  
"Mom." Sam whispered.  
  
Dean loosened his grip and stepped back ever so slightly. Sam released his hold on their mother, staring into her eyes. Dean noticed as he threw a glance over his shoulder that all 4 Winchesters had tears streaming down their faces now. Mary walked over to him, smiling warmly.  
  
"Dean. God look at you. You need a good shave, honey." She winked as his pulled him in for a warm hug. Sam was hugged onto their father now, sobbing quietly. He could hear John whispering soothingly in the youngest Winchesters ear. "Shhhhhh. Sam. You did your best son. Shhhhhh."  
  
After the fresh tears started to dry, they all moved to the closest booth and sat. John wrapped his arm around Mary, pulling her tight into his side. Dean wanted to do then same with Sam but thought better of that at the last possible second. He cleared his throat. Dad was the first one to speak.  
  
"Damn boys, you look great. Alittle worn out maybe but really great. So I guess you got pretty hungry back there on the road, eh?" John had that old familiar chuckle in his chocolate brown eyes.  
  
"That was you?" Sam said shocked then laughed. "We shoulda known. So what's going on Dad? What's this all about?"  
  
Dean grinning at his mom. "Maybe we should ask "Mary the Mighty Hunter" over here, eh Sammy?"  
  
Mary gave him a mock look of shock and laughed easily. John sighed long and low and the mood suddenly shifted from light and easy to alittle tense and unsure. John shifted in the booth and squeezed Mary's shoulder.  
  
"Boys, we brought you here, needed to see you. There are some things that need explaining. We don't have long." John barreled forward with all eyes on him. "Thing that needs explaining isn't going to be easy but we'll get you through it, your mom and me, Ok?"  
  
Both boys nodded in unison.  
  
"Thing is, not everything is clear to even us at this point but it seems when..." He coughed loudly. "the final seal was broken, it put these "rips" in the veil, allowing you mom and I to come help you today. It's becoming apparent that there are things you need to know to be able to stop this whole thing dead in it's tracks. We can't give you all the answers but we're here to lead you to the right choices."  
  
Mary spoke now. "My boys. Oh this is goig to be hard. Please just listen to everything before you ask anything, ok?" They nodded again in complete unison. "Many years ago, before Dean was born, I received a visitor. Your father was at work when a man knocked on the door. He told me that he knew about the deal I had made with Azazel and he said he had a way that I could fix it. He told me that I would be required to carry a child, a very special child. This child, he said, would be the one that would kill Azazel. This special child would be half...." She paused, " half human and half angel."  
  
Dean felt the wind physically being knocked out of him. He felt Sam immediately throw his long arms around him.  
  
Mary continued, "The child would be mine and...the angel Castiel's"  
  
"What?!?" Dean stuttered.   
  
He felt himself grab Sam's hand that still rested on his shoulder. His whole view shifted, everything coming into sharp focus.   
  
"I'm Castiels SON? Come on mom. This is just fucked up in a seriously insane way. Castiel?"  
  
Mary started again patiently. "Dean, I'm sorry. I really am but I never really knew what Azazel had planned son. I thought it was the only hope and Dean? You DID kill Azazel."  
  
He sat in shock, Sam's arm still wrapped protectively around his shoulders. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. John Winchester was not his father. Castiel was. Everything he'd known was a lie. John dipped his head to catch Dean's eyes.  
  
"It didn't make me love you any less, Dean. Ever. I need you to understand that. I know this is hard but there's more."  
  
Mary now looked at Sam, eyes sad.  
  
"There was more than just the demon blood, wasn't there?" Sam surmised. Mary nodded her head slightly once.  
"Who? Who is it Mom? Tell me!" Sam was trying to hold in the anger that was stealing through the very marrow in his bones.  
  
"When Dean was 4, your father went missing for 3 days. Growing up in a family of hunters, I knew what was out there. I was terrified. I looked everywhere but couldn't find him. He finally showed up, exhausted and bloody, couldn't remember a thing. Many months later, we woke to a baby's cry downstairs. There was a beautiful woman standing there by the door, holding a baby boy. I didn't have to see her eyes flash to black to know what she was. She told us that because I had tried to get around my deal with Azazel, she had taken your father and produced this baby she now held. Their way of balance, fairness. I'll never forget that smirk she wore..."  
  
"WHO!" Sam practically screamed now.  
  
"Lillith." Mary answered quietly.  
  
"Oh god!" Sam was coming unglued. Dean took Sam's face in his hands, running his thumsb over Sam's cheeks. He tried to will him with his eyes to calm down, to hold onto each other.   
  
"Sammy. It'll be ok, alright? Hang in there with me. It'll be ok, I promise."  
  
Sam growled, low and deep. He sounded like a wounded animal. He checked Sam's eyes, still hazel. He hugged Sam now, kind of rocking him back and forth. Somewhere he was conscience that John and Mary were there but he didn't care. He focused his full attention into making Sammy ok.  
  
Mary pressed on, "She told me that you were not to be harmed and we were not to let you know you were not my son. I couldn't have known that Azazel would still come to you that night, the night I died. Sam, look at me."  
  
Sam slowly lifted his tear soaked face trying to meet Mary's gaze.  
  
"When you put you in my arms, Sam....you were mine. I never thought of the dark ugliness again. Sammy, you were my baby- My son. I love you so much."  
  
As Mary spoke in comforting tones to Sam, Dean's mind was contemplating all the information. Dean was Mary's son, Sam was not. Sam was John's son, Dean was not. Sam....was....not....his....  
  
"Wait! Ok, STOP!" He shouted now. "Let me get this straight. Sam and I aren't even brothers then? What the hell?"  
  
"Well, raised as brothers, good as the real thing, Dean." John answered calmly.  
  
"Not even close," Dean countered. He decided in a split second with a nod to Sam. "See thing is, Sam and I, well. How do I explain this? There's always been this pull. You need to understand that. If we're all confessing our frickin' sins then here it is. Mom, Dad...Sam and I are in love."   
  
It sounded so small and childish once it came from his lips. But there it was. Out in the open, all the Winchesters dirty little secrets. He watched Sam choke back a laugh.  
  
"Seriously. Fucked. Up." Sam quipped, "What'd I tell you Dean? All this time we've been ate up with shame, guilt and for fuck sake we're not even related."  
  
Now they were both laughing, doubled over kind of laughing, rib splitting kind of laughing. John cleared his throat- always the patriarch.   
  
"That's the rest of what we wanted to tell you. We know about you two but the thing is we couldn't figure out why. Was it the fact that all you ever had was each other? It was Bobby that figured it out eventually. He was watching the two of you once when I was on a really rough hunt, you were already teenagers. He noticed that the two of you reminded him of your mother and I, the little things we did for each other. It had to be just the right parts of me, the right parts of your mother. The parts of us that loved each other deeper than anything or anyone else. The parts of us that made us soulmates."  
  
Mary slid from the bench, standing now. John followed suit.  
  
"Boys, we have to go. We were only given enough time to tell you the truth, hopefully right the wrongs we put on you. We want you to know above all that we are proud of you both. We always have been no matter what. We are very glad that you found what you have with each other. You might not be brothers but I believe in my heart that what you are is much, much more important. Hold onto that. When the end comes, just hold onto that no matter what the consequence. Do you understand me?"  
  
They looked into Mary's eyes, their mother. She was their long lost fairy tale of a normal life. Mary met their eyes, tears welling. One tear dropped. John pulled her close.   
  
They all hugged, cried. Bidding farewells, Be safes and I love you's. Then just like that, they were gone. No fanfare, no smoke and mirrors, just gone.  
  
It was just Sam and Dean.


End file.
